Stories From the Fallen
by IVolunteerAsAuthor
Summary: A collection of one-shots for my fallen tributes in SYOTs. These are stories what I think would have happened had they won their games. You'll see everything from sad endings to happy ones. Ultimately, you'll see an author who just can't let go of his creations. Thanks for reading ahead of time.
1. Parvati

**Hey, guys! So this isn't my normal update for the story I'm working on, but it's an idea I saw from AmericanPi, and I just really liked the idea of it! So here is my first tribute I decided to write for, aka, the first tribute I actually cared about that died.**

* * *

 _I'm in the business of misery_

 _Let's take it from the top_

 _She's got a body like an hourglass_

 _That's ticking like a clock_

* * *

 **Parvati Hallows, 18**

 **District 1 Female**

I was never afraid to do what had to be done. I always thought ahead and was always planning to wow the audience. I wanted to make a statement, and I wanted to show them that I was more than just a pretty face. I wanted to show them that my body was more than just a sex object.

Unfortunately, that failed.

In order to get ahead, you have to do things you aren't proud of. The Hunger Games was never built for timid and shy people. It was always built for sharks. The second my platform came up and I saw the arena I knew that I would be the one to make it out of there alive. The other tributes were temporary players in a long term game.

No one stood a chance. Aligning with the outer district kids was an obvious strategic move on my part. I could rely on them to be the sacrificial lamb, and then when all else failed and they became a liability to me I would take them out.

Which is what I did.

"Parvati, they're ready for you." says the stage manager as they knock on my dressing room door. The red dress I'm wearing really pulls out the tones of my skin, and I know that's what the Capitol is looking for. I know that's what the President is looking for.

As I walk down the long hallway, smiling at people as they walk by and congratulate me, something inside of me stirs. Because tonight a number of things fall into place. The first is that I'm officially a Victor. The lifelong dream that I've wanted to accomplish since I was a little girl is finally coming to fruition.

The second is that I'm probably going to be very unhappy until my looks fade away, or another prettier version of me has come along and won the games. It's not a secret what the Capitol does to it's more desirable tributes. It's not something I can avoid, and I knew that coming in. I knew that when I flirted my way to the end. I knew that when I degraded myself to do the things that I did.

 _But I wasn't going to die in there._

I don't think that's a bad thing. Self-preservation, no matter how selfish, is always in your best interest. There were so many chances for those idiots to off me, so many chances for them to say, "Hey, this girl is smarter than she looks. We need to take her out now."

If it wasn't for self-preservation, I wouldn't be here right now. Those people that lay down their lives in the arena because "they just weren't themselves anymore" are quitters. They're people who said their life wasn't worth it, that their life wasn't worth going through all these things.

I had a great life. I had to do everything I could to get back to it, and if that meant getting pimped out once a year when the games start again, then so be it.

The stage lights are bright, and the audience roars as I walk onto the stage. I give them one of my innocent smiles as I wink and blow kisses to the audience. They do stupid things like jump up and catch them, or get into fights over who I actually blew the kiss too. This is why these idiots were so easy to manipulate for sponsors.

"Parvati, how does it feel to be the lone remaining tribute from the 176th Hunger Games?"

I honestly don't remember the master of ceremonies name. They aren't, and never will be, relevant to my life. So I sit there, and I answer his lame questions as I go back and forth between being a ruthless killer and innocent charmer.

When the interview ends he wishes Panem a farewell and the audience begins to pack out of the stadium. I stand up and begin my walk off the stage when a hand grabs my arm and I turn to look at the master of ceremonies in surprise.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" he asks me. "I have you for the night."

I honestly can't tell you what I was expecting at this moment. It's something I knew was coming, and it was something that I was prepared to do, but now that it's staring me in the face I can't help but feel the tears well up in my eyes.

"I-I wasn't aware that you did," I respond. I don't even think that answer made sense with the conversation at hand. I just want this to be a dream that I wake up from, and this random guy isn't claiming me like an object.

"Well, now you do." he says.

He holds out his hand, and I take it. We walk backstage through the crowds of many workers that are tearing down the set. When we get to his dressing room he turns to me and looks at me.

"Don't be sad, sweetheart," he says. "You'll go in, you'll come out, everyone will go about their evening. Just listen and do what you're told and this shouldn't be a problem." He opens up the door and I walk in and sit on the couch. As I watch him close and lock the door behind him a single tear falls down my face. I'm quick to wipe it off and not let him see me for the fragile and vulnerable thing that I am in the moment.

"Well," I say taking a deep breath as he turns around to face me. "Let's get started then."

 **I loved Parvati. Unfortunately, not every Hunger Games has a happy ending like so many of us write on this website. Ruthless in every sense of the word Parvati was a manipulative genius and wasn't afraid to do what had to be done. Parvati was written in the story** Second Chance by **CreativeAJL. She placed twelfth.**

 **The next update should be out soon. This is nice closure.**

 **I'm also making a blog for this. It'll be called** **IVolunteerasAuthorsTributes . weebly. com**

 **There is a full set of placed tributes there.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	2. Rhiannon

**This next tribute is one that was lowkey a filler**

 **She was also one I grew to care a lot for**

 **Heading all the way back to the third Hunger Games**

* * *

 _But you went away_

 _How dare you_

 _I miss you_

 _They say I'll be okay_

 _But I'm not going to_

 _Ever get over you_

* * *

 **Rhiannon Hughes, 19**

 **District 4 Female**

It's been four long years since I won the third Hunger Games. In the time that has passed, we've seen a number of things come to pass in Panem. One of the most horrifying is the fact that people are volunteering not for someone they love, or because they feel they have a better shot than them, but because they _want_ to enter the games.

I cannot imagine anyone that wants to go into these horrid arenas. How someone could just be so careless with life, especially those who train to go in, is just beyond me. They put a value on the human lives, and the cost is their soul.

I miss Riley every day. My parents demanded an autopsy the moment he got back home into the District in his little brown box. My family's biggest fear was that they would have to mourn two children at once,

My twin brother was a lot farther gone than we realized. The cancer had overrun his body. Had he survived the games, he wouldn't have had long to live after. His sacrifice at the beginning of the games completely turned the course of the whole competition for me. There was a brief moment of insanity as I realized my twin, my best friend, my ride or die since day one is gone.

But I figured out he wouldn't be forgotten.

I carry Riley with me, I carry him with every fiber of my being, we literally shared DNA for crying out loud. Every time I see a wave hit the shore, or I dance in a recital, I see him. I see the person he was supposed to become. I see the person he could have been. It gives me great joy to know that my brother is gone, but his legacy can live on through me.

"Welcome to the 10th annual Hunger Games" screams the escort of District 4. She smiles broadly as if it's such an honor to be chosen for this game. Sadly, in our district, it is at this point. An academy opened for our District shortly after I won my games. They said that if someone like me could win, imagine what someone with actual weaponry skills can do.

I know for a fact, being the only Victor from 4, that these tributes that are going into the games today are volunteers. If they'll win is beyond me, most likely not because the academy has given us nothing but top 10 placers.

"If you'll join me in welcoming our girl tribute for this momentous occasion!" says the escort happily.

I look in the audience for Coral, the female volunteer this year, knowing that she is itching to get up here. Coral has always had a sense of wanting to be in the limelight, and she especially was very anxious to get selected by the board of trainers at the academy.

"And the female tribute going into the arena is...Ally Marquette!"

Coral stands up and volunteers for the girl and struts proudly up to the front of the stage. She smiled at the audience and promises that this year they will have a Victor. The boy volunteer from our District's name is Brock Delta, and he did about the same as Coral as far as impressions.

The rest of the in District events happen so quick. Only a few people show up to say their goodbyes to the tributes, and when that's over we are on the train. They greet me with respect and honor, but only because they know that they have to. I know what the trainees have to say about me in the locker rooms and in classes. They see me as a joke, but I'm a joke that has survived unspeakable things.

I sit down across from both of them at the table and do my best to smile. Honestly, I despise the idea that they are going to compete. They both could do so much more than their lives than this. This isn't an existence I would wish on anyone.

"So," I begin. "First things first, do you want to train separate or together?"

* * *

 **-2 weeks later-**

* * *

"Panem I give you the Victor of the 10th Annual Hunger Games, Coral Inez!"

I knew from the moment I watched the other tributes introduction clips from their reapings that Coral had this in the bag. Brock did alright for himself, and they were a very good team, but he ultimately fell at the feast. He placed 8th.

The finale was between Coral and the boy from District 10. He had an impeccable talent with lassos and was able to choke the tributes while being far away from them.

Unfortunately for him, Coral just had better aim.

I walk into the white room that I woke up in so long ago after I won my games. It's scary white, and they have almost completely healed any injuries she received during the games. She perks up when she sees me and then grins.

"I told you I could do it." she says smiling.

"But at what cost, Coral?" I ask her.

"That doesn't matter," she says. "I made it. I wanted to win this ever sense you did and I finally did it."

"Well, I hope a Victor's life is all it's cracked up to be," I respond with a soft smile as I sit at the end of her bed and listen to her go on and on about her glorious victory.

 **This was another sad one, but it was definitely unintentionally so. I guess Rhiannon was always just a morbid person.**

 **Anyways this is what her life would have looked like had she won** _ **The Power Within by betttyy**_

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	3. Dove

**This next tribute was my first gut wrencher**

 **When she died I remember actually being really upset**

 **In my opinion, she was robbed af but wasn't my story.**

 **Plus the author that wrote her is brilliant so no disrespect.**

* * *

 _Your love is crashing over me_

 _It's surging like a raging sea_

 _Immerse me in the wonders of your love_

* * *

 **Dove Savage, 32**

 **District 1 Female**

"MOMMA HE DID IT AGAIN!" screams Love from the other room. She runs into the living room holding a toy doll that her brother cut the hair off of yet again. That's the third time I've had to replace this doll. That boy is going to get it when his dad comes home later.

"Sweetheart let me see," I say as she hands me the doll and places it in my hand. I run my fingers over the bald spots of her hair and frown.

"Mommy, she has hair like yours," says Love as she reaches up and touches the top of my head. I laugh at my daughter's response. Breast cancer wasn't the most ideal circumstance for me since coming out of the games. I was diagnosed four years ago, but it hasn't gotten my spirits down to much. It comes and goes, but it hasn't taken me out yet.

"She sure does," I say as I hand my daughter back her favorite toy. "I'll go and buy you a new one tomorrow," I say as I bring my legs up to sit criss-cross on the sofa of our livingroom.

"That's okay," she says. "She's cool like my momma now."

"Well, nonetheless your brother is getting in trouble," I say resting my head on the back of the couch and closing my eyes. "As soon as your father gets home."

"What about me getting home?" ask Andrew as he walks through the front door. I lean back against the couch as he comes up behind me and kisses my head. To think I almost didn't marry this man. What a fool I'd be to not take advantage of love when it was right in front of me. Some people wait their whole lives for someone special, mine was found when I was 14.

"I'll give you oneguess,." I say with my eyes still closed. "Clues are that it involves a doll and your daughter, and your son."

"Bellamy!" calls Andrew from the living room. "Get your little behind in here boy!"

Bellamy comes into the room with his head hung low. He knows that he's done wrong, but one of the things that I love about my son so much is his heart for admitting when he's wrong. He's never once battled with telling us a lie. We told him it was wrong one time and since then he hasn't had a dishonest word.

Of course he's only seven, but still.

"Did you cut the hair off your sister's doll?" ask Andrew

"Yes, dadd," he says sadly as he kicks his foot against the hardwood floor of my living room.

"Why would you do that son?"

"I wanted it to look like mommy. Yesterday she was crying because she didn't have no hair. I know that dolls are posed to be pretty, so I thought if mommy saw a doll that didn't have no hair she'd think she's pretty too."

Tears well up in my eyes as I watch my son and daughter who are so caring and compassionate. How they came from someone like me I'll never know. I sometimes believe that my cancer is a direct result of me going into the games, but back then I was so foolish and thought I needed it.

I didn't know who I was back then. I thought something as silly as to who I came from defined me. It wasn't until after the games that I learned that my life was defined by the choices I made and the people that I chose to have around me. Biological or nonbiological. Now that I'm on my own, I hardly ever talk to the parents.

"Andrew can we really get on to him right now? Like that was sweeter than diabetes." I say

"It's okay, Bell." says my daughter as she runs up and gives him a hug. "Mommy is beautiful, the dolly is beautiful, I'm beautiful. Everyone in the house is beautiful. Let's all just be okay with beautiful okay? I don't want to hear no more talk about how someone doesn't think we are beautiful."

Such wise words coming from a five-year-old.

"Fine," says Andrew. "We won't have a punishment this time, but you really can't do things like that to your sister's toys, Bellamy," says Andrew choking back tears as well as he talks to my son trying to be firm.

"Yes sir," says Bellamy with a cheeky smile.

Sometimes I think the cancer is a direct result of what I did in the games. The horrible acts that I committed were something that couldn't have gone unpunished. But, I look back at all my family, and all the happy memories that we have together and I can't help but smile.

Even if this cancer wins and it takes my life, I know for a fact that it doesn't win. I have had enough love in my life to move mountains, enough happy and joyous times to never feel sadness, and an epic story that most people never get the chance to tell.

My name is Dove Savage, and I'm a Hunger Games survivor.

 _Dove passed away 4 months to this very day after a long fight with cancer. Her tombstone reads "A loving mother, a loving wife, and a victoriously fierce woman." Her ceremony was quiet and held privately. The President and all the Victors from the previous games came to pay their respect to such a valiant victor._

 _To Dove Savage, she was one of the best._

 **Wait, this was hard af to write, and I'm super sad that I had to write this chapter, but I genuinely feel like this was her course after so much fighting from Dove, it was time for her fight to end. Rest in peace.**

 **I promise some of these guys get happy endings, but I consider this one to be happy in a way. She lived a full life.**

 **I'm proud of this Victor, I'm proud of this tribute, and I love this character with every ounce of my heart.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


End file.
